


We Hold These Truths

by Peapods



Series: The Fire Thief [3]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peapods/pseuds/Peapods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albert was not one for sentiment, for overwrought declaration, or even for smiling on most days. He generally did not hold onto things because ultimately, circumstances changed, theories were proven wrong, people revealed their true selves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Hold These Truths

**Author's Note:**

> For Porn Battle Lucky Thirteen.

Being a scientist and often-called curmudgeon, Albert was not one for sentiment, for overwrought declaration, or even for smiling on most days. He generally did not hold onto things because ultimately, circumstances changed, theories were proven wrong, people revealed their true selves.

He held onto only two things: the principle of nonviolence and Dale Cooper.

_"You know he'll never love you," a familiar voice sneered in an unfamiliar tone._

The former was the legacy of his father and mother, crusaders in the African-American Civil Rights movement, who saw violence and the denial of basic human rights as kissing cousins, if not outright incestuous siblings.

The latter was not unique, not even strange. Dale Cooper inspired those he touched to greater levels of investigative prowess, naval-gazing, and human compassion. Most of all, he had taken one look at Albert Rosenfield, lab grunt and all around unpleasant human being, and decided to be his friend.

_"Your little crush is so pathetic, lapping at his feet, trotting after him for one piece of attention," the voice continued._

When Earle had gotten his Section 8 and Coop had recovered from near-evisceration, Albert had been unceremoniously plucked from his lab and dropped right down into Gordon Cole's lap. Well, part of his lap. Cooper claimed the other leg. And from that first cheesy grin, from the first time Cooper had just responded amiably to one of Albert's many insults and asked him to coffee, Albert knew he would never be able to shake him.

_"What, Coop, no remarks about the gun?" he had opened with._

_"Nice, Smith and Wesson?" And he had known immediately, instinctively, that it was not Dale Cooper lying in that bed._

"He counts on you, you need to be able to protect him," Diane argued. "You have to carry a weapon."

"Cooper is the best shot in the damn Bureau, Diane, I'm not going to be much help. And I will _not_ carry a gun. Don't make me quote M*A*S*H."

Her lips twitched, but her eyes still held resolve.

"Diane," Cooper said softly as he came into the office. "He is not going to carry a gun. I would not have a man compromise his most basic principles on the grounds of a hypothetical situation. Besides, I have seen Albert's shooting scores. I would fear more for my own life than for anyone else's," he finished with a sunny smile.

_"It's not Cooper and I don't care what the little girlfriend says," Albert insisted. "Dale Cooper defended to the highest authority my right not to carry a gun, he would not sit blithely by and ask me what make my piece is."_

_He stared at the Not-Cooper handcuffed to the bed as he spewed invective. He pulled off his holster, uncomfortable and digging into his shoulder, and grabbed a syringe. He carefully filled it with liquid and tapped and plunged to get the bubbles out. He rolled up his sleeves and glanced at the doctor on hand with a defibrillator. He leaned in close, right up to the ear of the monster wearing his friend's face._

_"Him loving me back isn't the point. No matter what, I'll love him until the day he dies. Even if that happens to be today," he said before plunging the needle into his arm. "Now, go back to hell you soul-sucking son of a bitch."_

Three years later, Albert awoke deep in the night with a grunt.

"Damnit, Coop, it's boiling outside, you gotta cling like a limpet?" he said hoarsely.

"Mmm, we could turn on the air."

"It's not hot enough, yet," he said mulishly. A huff of air against his nape indicated Cooper's amusement.

"I'm sorry, Albert, I was feeling uncharacteristically needy."

Now, Albert snorted, but turned over to peer at his partner, who was smiling softly in the dim light.

"What's got you so needy?"

"Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day we met!" Cooper said with mock surprise. "Albert, I'm surprised you've forgotten!"

Albert rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, as I recall, our first meeting, or perhaps we should say whiff, was after I'd arrived at the scene and one of the new lackeys tossed his cookies all over my suit."

"You made an eminently positive impression," Cooper lied.

"Look, Cooper, if you didn't wake me up for sex I'm going to be extremely annoyed."

Cooper smiled. "I was clinging like a limpet, in your words, my intentions weren't obvious?"

Albert shut him up with his tongue. He pulled his partner closer, jutting a thigh up against Coop's "intentions." Cooper moaned against his lips and pulled until Albert was perched awkwardly above him.

"Sure, make me do all the work," he complained, but pulled off his shorts and shirt before tackling Cooper's. "I take it you, once again, want to show off those yoga skills?"

"One day, Albert, I will get you onto a mat," Cooper said, propping his legs up on Albert's hips.

"Unless you plan to blow me on said mat, you can forget about it," he reached for the lube and prepared them both with economy. His own hard-on, the real reason Cooper's vine act had woken him up, suddenly seemed much more urgent. Cooper was beautiful, of that there could be little protest or doubt. Early on, his personality nearly had Albert convinced he was a sexless being, but his partner had proved that wrong one early morning in June of 1989 when he'd crawled into Albert's bed (Cooper's couch) and sucked his brains out of his dick.

He loved this man and that was a truth he held onto. Maybe it had saved Cooper's life. Albert didn't want the credit. He got enough with the reward. Circumstances had given them greater insight into the world and themselves. The theory that one need only love, not be loved in return, while still true, needed a corollary about how much more satisfying the latter was. And Dale Cooper had revealed his true self. A man with fears and loves, anger and happiness and the capacity to love a sarcastic, cynical man with a smoking habit and a shitty shooting score.

And, of course, his healthy attitude about sex and how much they should be having. Which was, thankfully, a great deal.

He pressed inside Cooper, his heat, the heat from the room and the bed making Albert lightheaded. He grabbed Cooper's legs and hoisted them up further. Albert gave him no time before beginning to thrust. Cooper didn't want it, didn't need it with all that yoga crap. Cooper didn't touch himself. He threaded his hands over Albert's shoulders and looked straight at him. Even as a blush rose high in his cheeks and blotched his chest and belly, he kept his eyes on Albert's.

He couldn't hold Cooper's legs and dropped them to the sides with a groan, hands bracketing Cooper's head as he tried to hold himself up. He kissed Cooper, feeling strong fingers spasm slightly on his neck. Cooper's breathing picked up and Albert pulled away, his vision beginning to spot as his climax approached.

"Oh, touch me, Albert, please," Cooper begged. Albert slowed his thrusts, trying to stave off his own pleasure as he wrapped a hand around Cooper's cock, pulling with long, tight strokes.

"C'mon, Cooper," he said, his hips speeding up involuntarily. He couldn't hold it off much longer.

Cooper's head dropped back and he sucked in a sharp breath. It stuttered out with a few grunts and Albert felt the tacky wetness coat his hand. He let go and took Cooper's hips as his own climax overtook him. He pressed in close, taking in great breaths that tasted like sweat and salt. Hand caressed his back and the back of his head, scratching lightly through his hair.

"Now, who's the limpet?" Cooper asked softly.

"Shut it, Coop, and bask. I'm being sentimental."


End file.
